


The Night Before

by ObsidianButterfly



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fingering, Het, Oral
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 09:22:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianButterfly/pseuds/ObsidianButterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lestrade and Molly wake up in a compromising situation. Just how did they get there and what happened the night before?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Night Before

A faint pounding in his head roused him from sleep. Lestrade struggled to open his eyes and the pain grew significantly as his he surfaced from slumber to consciousness. For a brief moment he wondered where he was, but the soft mattress under him and the bright sunlight shining, even behind his partially closed eyelids, told him he was in his own home. 

Something was off though, a little voice in the back of his head was telling him. There was a warn weight across his stomach and he was sure it was hair that was tickling his chin. He opened his eyes slowly, looking down to find a pale, slender female arm thrown across his waist, the top of her reddish brown head tucked under his chin as she snuggled into his side, their legs entwined together.

His whole body tensed. Oh dear lord, Molly Hooper! What was she doing here? Greg could feel from the sheets rubbing against his skin he had nothing on, he was willing to be Molly didn’t either. They had obviously had sex, how had this happened? Just how much had he had to drink last night?

He lay there fully awake now, mind reeling in shock and afraid to move. What had they done? He could feel her gentle rhythmic breath on his collar bone, Molly was still asleep, her expression peaceful. However, soon a sudden tenseness in her body told him that she too had woken up. She, like Lestrade hadn’t moved an inch but he knew she was no longer deep in sleep.

Both of them lay there wrapped up in each other, obviously fearful to make any move or let the other know they were awake. Greg did not know how long they were lying there like that wrapped in each other. It was quite pleasant now he though on it, her soft warm body pressed the line of his, the smell of sex and her perfume fragrance the air. It had been a while since he and his wife had separated and he forgot how nice it was to wake up and have another person on hand to talk to, or cuddle, or just generally be near.

He sighed and decided he had to make first move, they could not lie like this all day, as nice as it was. As Greg looked down to the top of her head, at the same time Molly glanced, nervously up at him. She seemed wide-eyed and shocked. As their eyes met and dawning realisation filled them she squeaked and scuttled as far away from him on the bed as possible, pulling the stark white bed sheet up to cover her bare breasts as she perched on the edge of the mattress.

Unfortunately her movement dislodged the coverings that were wrapped around Greg’s waist, causing them to slip and exposing him fully to view. He just lay there, afraid to move and unsure as to what reaction to have, it was quite funny in an absurd comedy routine way. 

Molly, on the other hand, he noticed was open mouthed and alarmed. She yelped, glancing over his naked body and blushing furiously before apologising profusely for pulling the sheet off him. She jumped to her feet, wrapping the sheet around her and fled his bedroom. Greg heard a door slam further down the hallway; evidently Molly had locked herself in the bathroom.

Lestrade covered his eyes with both hands letting out a sigh. 

Fuck. 

Well this was awkward. His head ached, his body protested movement as he rose stiffly from the bed, muscles aching. Apparently he had been quite acrobatic last night. Lestrade flushed at the thought and let out a groan. Oh god, what were they going to do? What was he going to say to her? Molly seemed even more shocked than he was. 

He quickly pulled on some clothes and found a bottle of aspirin in his bedside table, swallowing them down quickly without water. As he sat on the edge of the bed he spotted them; Molly’s clothes littering the floor of his bedroom. Greg glanced at the door, she still hadn’t emerged from the bathroom and he was wondering if she was ok.

He gingerly picked up a few items. The sight of her small, frilly underwear in his hand caused a fresh wave of guilt to overcome him. He quickly bundled the items up and headed to the door of the bathroom. He listened carefully. Nothing.

He knocked gently. No answer. He tried again.

‘Um...M-Molly?’

Nothing.

‘I have your, um...clothing here if you want it.’

After a pause the door reluctantly opened a crack, her hand reached out to snatch the items from his. Molly murmured a soft ‘thank you,’ from behind the door, before slamming it again without another word.

His mind drifted back to the previous night, trying to make sense of it. Brief flashes and sensations came back to him, delicate hands rubbing along his body, soft, wet kissed on his lips, his neck, and his chest. Swallowing, Lestrade retreated quickly downstairs, he needed coffee. Now.

He busied himself in the Kitchen. For a moment he wondered if Molly would like a coffee too, then he pictured her mortified expression and decided best leave her to hide in the bathroom for a while, she would hopefully come down in a bit.

Damn that party, he thought. 

 

**************************************************************

 

Greg had arrived at Baker Street late in the evening on Christmas day. He had been on duty during the day and was surprised to find an invitation from John and Sherlock for a few drinks. John’s girlfriend and Mrs Hudson were also there when he arrived. 

The group had good food and plenty of alcohol, gifts; the night was actually quite fun if he was truthful. Molly had looked, well, very pretty actually. She turned up in a stunning dress and made up as if she were going for a night on the town instead of 221B Baker Street. It was for Sherlock, he mused though. He knew she had a crush on him, everyone knew! Even Sherlock couldn’t miss how she followed him around like a lovesick puppy.

Disappointed and frustrated as the evening had drawn on, he drank more and more wine. They had a small drama with Sherlock and Molly, Sherlock being his usual obtuse self. But Greg, Greg was sure he could convince his ex-wife to get back together this holiday season. 

Sherlock made an offhand quip about her dating a P.E teacher. He laughed it off initially, but as the night wore on it had gnawed at him. She was always distant with him. His wife. They chatted less and less on the phone. The few conversations they did have were strained and full of forced cheeriness. Perhaps his wife really was moving on with her life and dating new people, yet here he was, still pining for her, still hoping to get back together.

 

***************************************************************

 

Lestrade heard a faint crash above him. Clearly Molly had just knocked something over in the bathroom and he could picture her now; she was probably panicking over the damage and flapping about trying to fix it.  
He sighed wondering what he was going to say to her. He sat at the kitchen table hugging his coffee mug hoping to find inspiration in a high dose of caffeine.

Ah, now he remembered. They had left together. Greg had decided it was time to leave the Christmas party at Baker Street just as Molly was putting on her jacket also. He had walked her downstairs to the cold night air. He noticed Molly was looking a little forlorn, no doubt due to the earlier scene with Sherlock. He had humiliated her as she was too quite and reserved to say anything. Lestrade had a thick skin, he was used to Sherlock’s snide remarks and taunts but in his eyes Molly was a little girl. She was far too sensitive for Sherlock’s particular brand of wit.

 

*****************************************************************

 

Lestrade hailed himself a taxi; any hope of reconciliation with his wife was pretty much dashed. He would head home and spent the rest of Christmas with a bottle of whiskey and the TV. As the taxi pulled up he opened the door. Molly was still standing on the street.

‘Where are you heading?’

‘What? Oh, well, I was just, I-I don’t feel like doing anything else so I’ll just go home.’

Lestrade had a feeling that she likely had nothing better to do or nowhere to go, much like himself.

‘How are you getting home?’

‘Oh well, um, I will just get a taxi I suppose.’

Molly gave a small wave and went to head off down the street. Greg felt slightly guilty leaving her. He called after her –

‘Hey, Molly, come here. I will drop you off on my way.’

‘No, that’s ok, you don’t have to, I will be fine.’ She stammered at his offer, murmuring something about not putting him out.

Greg sighed. She was so timid. So eager to please and constantly avoided decision making. He stood with the door open indicating the back of the taxi.

‘Come on, get in,’ he cajoled.

She acquiesced, sliding into the back of the taxi, tottering slightly in very high heels. She flashed thigh high stockings and suspenders as she crawled into the cab. Greg swallowed hard, good god! Cursing himself for being a letch he followed her in, closing the door behind him.

 

********************************************************************

 

Oh dear, Lestrade thought. He had offered to taker her home and here she was hours later in his home and having spent the night in his bed. He sat at the kitchen table sipping his coffee. It was still a little too warm but he did not notice the scalding sensation down his throat as he reminisced about last night. That was it, he mused. He was never drinking alcohol again.

He heard a loud slam. Not from above him this time. It was a lot closer, it sounded suspiciously like his front door...

He raced to the front door. It was closed; he opened it and peered down his street. He could just see the retreating figure of Molly turn the corner. Damn! 

Greg sprinted out the door, bare feet freezing on the cold stone pavement. He called out to her as he reached the corner of his block of buildings but he stopped abruptly. No one was there. There were a few people walking up and down the road, cars and busses passing by. She could have jumped on a bus or hailed a taxi. 

Lestrade cursed inwardly. He wanted to talk to her, to explain, but she had run away. He turned and made his way back to his home. Surly there was no reason to run away from him? It might be a little awkward but she was acting as if they had done something terrible.

 

**************************************************************

 

He had invited her to his. She had refused at first right enough, but a little persuasion meant they were soon heading to his house in the taxi. He had fully intended to take her home but on reflection he decided there would be nothing wrong with a drink and a chat; he really had not intentionally intended anything more it would be nice to have company on Christmas.

‘Hey why don’t you have a drink with me?’

‘Um, no, I’m ok, thanks though.’

‘Sure? Come one. Why end the fun now.’

Molly looked a little hesitant but she was coming around to the idea, perhaps feeling the effects of the earlier alcohol.

‘Where? Everywhere will be closed.’

‘Mine. Plenty at my house. Come with me-‘

With that Lestrade told the driver to head to his first rather than Molly’s. She sank back into the seat. Greg had railroaded her before she even had time to protest. She gazed out the window to the dark winter sky.

‘Don’t’ listen to that pillock.’ His voice drifted from the other end of the taxi.

‘What?’

‘Sherlock,’ that one word held vehemence. 

She just looked at him, Greg turned in his seat continuing, ‘Look I know you like him-‘

‘I like all of you-‘ Molly protested reverently.

‘You fancy the pants off him!’

She spluttered in her denial ‘I-I do not. I don’t fancy him.’

Greg chuckled. ‘Yeah you do. Everyone can see it Molly. It’s fine, really. Don’t be so embarrassed.’

Still she flushed and turned away, facing out the window, more than a little mortified.

He persisted, ‘Anyway don’t listen to him; I thought you looked very pretty tonight.’

Molly tired to sink further into the seat in embarrassment. Stammering vague thanks in Lestrade's direction.

Greg grinned. How did she function day to day? She was hopeless around people. Maybe she chose to work with the dead for a reason?

 

****************************************************************

 

Just as Greg entered the house the phone rang. He dashed to pick it up still fuming at Molly for running away.

‘Lestrade’ he answered.

‘Body in the morgue Sir, I am on my way. Will I pick you up?’

It was Donovan. Greg sighed. Great. Work.

‘It’s my day off!’

‘I thought you might want to come. The freak is there. Apparently he knows her.’

Now that made him curious. Sherlock knew the victim? Perhaps he might get to see uncharacteristic emotion from the robot. With nothing better to do than brood over the night before, he quickly changed clothes in time for Donovan picking him up and they headed over to the morgue at St Bart’s. On the drive over he still couldn’t help reminiscing about last night, his head-achy, drink filled brain still coming up with brief snippets of events.

 

*************************************************************************

 

He hadn’t even known how it started. In the back of the taxi perhaps? On reflection perhaps he had been a little pushy, he hadn’t exactly forced her, Molly was a big girl and could make her own mind up but he hadn’t given her much room to protest. Before he knew it they were kissing furiously, fumbling jackets and bags filled with presents as they got to his front door, pulling away from her only long enough to put the key ion the lock and open it. 

They both fell into the hallway, letting go of their possessions with a thump to the floor as he pushed her against the wall. 

His lips wandered over any bare skin he could reach delighting in the warm softness under him and the smell of some exotic and fruity soap, or perhaps some sort of body lotion. Whatever it was she tasted good and right at that moment Lestrade wanted more.

He slid a knee between her legs, putting her off balance and forcing her to cling onto him as he pushed her further up against the wall. Pulling back slightly as she tried to shrug off his suit jacket; he pulled her they both stumbled through the door into the living room. 

Lestrade manoeuvred her towards the couch and Molly gave a small squeak as her knees unexpectedly hit the cushions and she tumbled onto it. Greg was pulled down along with her and his body quickly covered hers, lips returning to fervent kissing.

He attacked her neck, nibbling and licking the sensitive skin as she writhed under him; he was enjoying the small moans in his ear as her hands caressed his sides through his shirt. She grabbed handfuls of his shirt un-tucking it from his trousers so she could slip them under and into contact with bare skin. Greg noted her hands were slightly cold and shivered as cool hands traced up his ribs.

Starting at Molly’s knee, his hand trailed up a smooth silky thigh edging her dress up with his wrist as he went. He reached the edge of her knickers and fondled the fabric, gently brushing his fingers past the edge groping her cheek. He pinched slightly causing her to squeak and giggle into his mouth.

‘Hey!’ she said

Lestrade laughed and pinched her bum again causing her hips to buck towards him. He went to manoeuvre himself into a more comfy position but forgot they were on a fairly small couch. Before he knew it he was on the floor looking up at her, the wind knocked out of him from the fall.

Molly peered over the edge of the couch at him, eyes wide. After a pause she broke into racounterous laughter, throwing herself back onto the couch giggling. Greg look slightly put out. It wasn’t that funny he thought, a little embarrassed. 

He got to his knees, leaning over the couch at her. She was beautiful when she laughed, she didn’t do it often enough and that was a pity. He resolved that he should try and make her laugh more often.

 

****************************************************************

 

The D.I arrived at the morgue to find Molly working over the body. Sherlock was there as was his brother Mycroft. A few questions later he found out that the victim was Miss Irene Adler. Dominatrix. 

Well this was interesting. How exactly did the golden boy know her? He would have to look into this further, it was just too juicy to resist. Suspicious death definitely, the face was a ruin, only identified by Sherlock from her, er, other features.

Molly was pointedly not looking at him; she answered his questions abruptly and from the corner of her mouth. When he moved around to her side of the table she retreated around beside Sherlock. Well, fuck. This was far more awkward that he had been expecting.

He glanced up from the body to find Sherlock looking at him intently as if studying some sort of lab specimen. Greg watched as his gaze slid over to Molly then back to him, a small evil smile creeping over him. He knew. Damn him! 

Sherlock opened his mouth and Lestrade knew the git was going to mention something about the two of them and last night.

‘So, how was Detective Lestrade’s last night, Miss Hooper?’ Sherlock’s voice was smooth as silk, as if he wasn’t being an arse just for the sake of it.

Molly dropped the instrument she had bee holding. It clattered to the floor with a metallic ring; the utensil was covered in blood from the autopsy and as it hit the floor small splatters splashed across the tiles.

‘What?’ Her voice was uneven; she bit out the word with vehemence.

‘You stayed with the Inspector did you not?’

Greg cursed inwardly. Sherlock was such a dick. He was going to make fun of her. No doubt he had spotted something or deducted something or other and was provoking a reaction, probably because he was feeling like shit because his ‘friend’, ‘whore’, ’mistress’ or whatever the hell she was, was dead and he was going to make everyone else suffer for his retarded emotional status. 

Molly meanwhile disappeared behind the morgue bench trying to clean up the mess she had made. She was murmuring something under her breath so rapidly that no one in the room could hear.

‘Oh, regretting the decision already? Was your sexual experience really that unsatisfactory? To be expected really since you, lestrade are too busy pining over your ex wife and Molly has no luck with boyfriends, really just look at ‘Jim’ the apparently gay criminal mastermind.’

‘Drop it Sherlock,’ Lestrade growled.

Holmes merely raised his eyebrows. ‘Well that is a turn around Lestrade. Feeling protective? I suppose all those hormones running around urge you to ‘mark your territory.’

He gritted his teeth as Molly threw the instrument back on the table and headed swiftly for the door, face bright red, eyes glistening with tears and voice quavering.

‘Oh don’t worry Molly,’ Sherlock called after her retreating back ‘Why don’t you ever ask Lestrade is he wants coffee?’

‘Sherlock!’ Even his brother’s voice held a warning tone at his level of nastiness.

 

*****************************************************************

 

They had moved from the living room upstairs with hurried and frenzied kissing, hands exploring bodies eagerly. They almost didn’t make it to the bed. Halfway up the stairs Molly tumbled backwards, lying across them; Greg’s body followed her down covering her smaller frame with his own.

She giggled as he nuzzled her neck, one of her legs hooked around his thigh as he slid fingers under her skirt. Lestrade heard her breath hitch as his fingers brushed the edge of her panties. She whimpered as he brushed them slightly aside fingers exploring skin underneath, he smiled into he crook of her neck as her thighs parted further, back arching as he touched upon a sensitive spot.

He managed to toe his shoes off as Molly fumbled with his tie tossing it further down the stairs as she began yanking buttons of his shirt open hurriedly. Frustrated with the progress on his shirt her attention turned to the belt of his trousers which she soon had opened. 

Her palm pressed again the front of him, rubbing an ever increasing erection through the front of his trousers. Greg groaned low in his throat at her touch, he couldn’t help sinking his teeth into her neck as she teased his arousal.

Rising to his feet with surprising speed from the uncomfortable position on the stairs, Lestrade pulled Molly up with him. He loved her small groan of displeasure at the loss of his body from hers and his teasing fingers, she would have been quite happy to do it right there on the landing.

‘Upstairs,’ he whispered, placing a kiss on her temple, indicating further up at her confused look. Molly kicked off her heels on the stairs as he practically dragged her up them towards the bedroom.  
With the closing of the bedroom door went all inhibitions. Any superfluous clothing was soon discarded as Lestrade finally had her naked on the bed.

His fingers continued their earlier probing, finding her sensitive clit, rubbing gently and methodically until her hips were bucking up to meet his hand. He could feel the wetness from her arousal pool between her thighs as he slipped his index finger against her opening before sliding it into her gently. 

His ego boost was complete once she begged for more in a soft voice in his ear. He had the urge to see what she tasted like and reluctantly withdrew his mouth for her delicate lips and intoxicating kisses before trailing a path down her body. 

Greg started at her neck, a vast expanse of pearly white skin now littered with reddish marks from his teeth. Her soft hands ran through his hair as he kissed his way down through the valley between her breasts, tongue trailing same path as his lips. 

Reaching her hip bones, he placed small, slow kisses along the line just above her pubic bone. Molly’s thighs tensed and flexed under him, clearly eager for him to move further downward. Greg rolled his eyes up; Molly was watching him with an eager expression, looking down the line of her nude body, she blushed as their eyes met, glancing away first.

He slid his tongue further in, lapping in one long movement, through her folds. Her breath hitched above him, her thighs tensed under his fingers. Greg did it again, watching her excitedly as she writhed above him before doing it a third time, one long lick from her opening to her clit.

Greg had to place his hands firmly on her hips to stop them too wildly and loosing contact. He ran his tongue over her clit, focusing his attention on the area that he knew would give her the most pleasure, the small sensitive bundle hardened and filled with blood under his touch. Massaging it gently with the pad of his tongue until he could feel her wiggling, he switched tactics and began sucking gently. 

Molly moaned and whimpered for him and it was music to his ears. 

Pulling back once her breathing hitched and her thighs were quivering, Lestrade glanced down at the beautiful figure before him. She was stunning. Completely stunning as Molly lay spread on the covers before him, panting heavily; her legs spread and her pussy glistening in wetness from her own orgasm and his mouth. 

 

*****************************************************************

 

Sherlock never even saw it coming. Greg hadn’t quite expected to hit him so hard truth be told, he was just feeling exceptionally angry and frustrated at the situation. He had seen Sherlock fight and didn’t think it would have been that easy but the punch he aimed at the side of Sherlock’s head had all of his weight behind it. 

As his fist collided with a loud crunch, Sherlock dropped to the floor heavily, knocking over a table with autopsy instruments on it in the process. Lestrade blanched, surprised at the ferocity of his own actions and the result of Sherlock cradling his jaw on the floor. 

Mycroft gave a disdainful look to Lestrade before a ‘you deserved that’ one to his brother. The older Holmes sighed as he gingerly stepped over his brother heading for the door, muttering, ‘I’m going for a cigarette,’ without a backward glance.

 

*******************************************************************

 

Greg could no longer hold off. Looking down at Molly’s sated and sweat covered body he was eager to have her. 

Crawling up the bed, his body covered hers, holding his weight just off her on his forearms. He kissed her deeply and she sucked eagerly on his tongue, tasting herself on him. 

Greg enjoyed the small noises she made in her throat, the small cat lick licks of her tongue, the shy glances away when his eye caught hers. She was delicate and precious and for a brief moment he wondered if he should really be doing this, with her. He worried if he pushed this or if he was being too rough. As he kissed his way along her jaw, neck and collar he worried his stubble would be scratching the soft, fragile, rose-pink skin.

His firm erection slid between her legs which she parted, keenly. The sensitive head of his cock brushed through her folds, coating himself in her wetness. Lestrade wanted to hold off, to prolong this delicious feeling but it was too much. He couldn’t wait. It was too late to stop, for any attack of conscious and he wasn’t going to ignore the small pleads in his ear or her small hand wrapping around his cock and positioning it her entrance.

With a quick flex of his hips and bruising kiss to her lips, he buried his cock into her warm welcoming body in one long fluid movement. Molly’s back arched and she cried out in pleasure, the tightness of her nearly finished Greg of but he pulled back agonisingly slowly before plunging back in with force.

Molly wrapped her legs around his hips in encouragement, her hands clutching at his back, scrapping fingernails gently down his shoulders as he buried his face into her neck, hips bucking into her. She clung to him, wrapping her body around him like a cat being stroked as his tempo increased. 

Hip rose to match his thrusts initially but soon both were so lost in their own pleasure that any rhythm was gone as their bodies danced together, desperately seeking release.

His arms were shaking from the effort of holding his body off hers but he could feel a low pressure in his groin. He was so close to his own orgasm, there would be nothing he could do to stop it. He cried out and leaned in to kiss her, noting her flushed expression and sheen of sweat on her brow and between her breasts. 

His lips moved to lick the sweat salted skin of her neck and he murmured, ‘I love you, Molly,’ into her ear as her teeth sunk gently into his shoulder. His back arched as his whole lower body contracted, rippling the pleasure from his balls to the tip of his cock as he came inside her.

Eventually parting, sleepy and exhausted Greg gently rolled off Molly on to his side. She curled around him, pulling a sheet over their hot, sweat soaked bodies whispering 'I love you too', and falling contentedly asleep.

 

********************************************************************

 

Greg warily walked around the table offering a hand to help Sherlock up who looked at him a little surprised but accepted his arm as he dusted off his suit. He considered apologising for his actions and lashing out at him simply because he was being his usual self and embarrassing both him and Molly, but mostly poor Molly. What did he have to be so cruel to her all the time?

Hang on a minute, Greg thought. Why the hell should he apologise? Sherlock was the one being a twit and he deserved to be taken down a peg or two. After Sherlock was on his feet, Lestrade dropped his arm abruptly and turned for the door, leaving the man alone with the body of Miss Adler. 

‘You are a real arse at times Sherlock,’ he said as he walked away, secretly pleased the man was still rubbing his sore jaw and looking a little shame-faced.

Lestrade kicked the mortuary doors open, he would need to find Molly and they were going to have a very long chat about last night and whether there was any chance of it happening again.

 

 

End


End file.
